roaring overhead was dreadful.
The next thing I heard was James' voice, quiet and cheery, as it always was.
“Come, my beauties, it is time for us to be off, so wake up and come along.” I
stood nearest the door, so he came to me first, patting me as he came in.
“Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy, we'll soon be out of this
smother.” It was on in no time; then he took the scarf off his neck, and tied it
lightly over my eyes, and patting and coaxing he led me out of the stable. Safe in
the yard, he slipped the scarf off my eyes, and shouted, “Here somebody! take
this horse while I go back for the other.”
A tall, broad man stepped forward and took me, and James darted back into
the stable. I set up a shrill whinny as I saw him go. Ginger told me afterward that
whinny was the best thing I could have done for her, for had she not heard me
outside she would never have had courage to come out.
There was much confusion in the yard; the horses being got out of other
stables, and the carriages and gigs being pulled out of houses and sheds, lest the
flames should spread further. On the other side the yard windows were thrown
up, and people were shouting all sorts of things; but I kept my eye fixed on the
stable door, where the smoke poured out thicker than ever, and I could see
flashes of red light; presently I heard above all the stir and din a loud, clear
voice, which I knew was master's:
“James Howard! James Howard! Are you there?” There was no answer, but I
heard a crash of something falling in the stable, and the next moment I gave a
loud, joyful neigh, for I saw James coming through the smoke leading Ginger
with him; she was coughing violently, and he was not able to speak.
“My brave lad!” said master, laying his hand on his shoulder, “are you hurt?”
James shook his head, for he could not yet speak.
“Ay,” said the big man who held me; “he is a brave lad, and no mistake.”
“And now,” said master, “when you have got your breath, James, we'll get out
of this place as quickly as we can,” and we were moving toward the entry, when
from the market-place there came a sound of galloping feet and loud rumbling
wheels.
“'Tis the fire-engine! the fire-engine!” shouted two or three voices, “stand
back, make way!” and clattering and thundering over the stones two horses
dashed into the yard with a heavy engine behind them. The firemen leaped to the
ground; there was no need to ask where the fire was—it was rolling up in a great
blaze from the roof.